


In the Attic

by willowwand



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post Hogwarts AU, Written Pre-Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:25:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7022800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowwand/pseuds/willowwand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As newlywed Ron and Hermione move into their new home, Ron is forced to work through some lingering insecurities.</p><p>First published on the now-defunct R/Hr (Romione) site Checkmated on October 21, 2006. </p><p>This was written before the release of Deathly Hallows, therefore it only follows canon through Half-Blood Prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Attic

Ron grumbled as he dropped the last of Hermione’s boxes of books onto the dusty wood floor. She’d forbidden that he use magic to bring the boxes upstairs, having the gall to accuse him of being _careless_. All this because he’d nearly levitated Hermione’s armchair onto Crookshanks, as if it was his fault that the ruddy cat decided to take a nap behind some boxes. Of course, it meant a lot more work for him as the room was at the very top of the house.

 

He looked around at the nearly empty space, which was actually the attic. Hermione liked the way light filtered in from the large round window, so she had said it was perfect to use as a study. The only downside was that no one had touched the room in years, so the air in the room was thick with dust.

 

A month into Ron and Hermione’s marriage, his Great-Aunt Muriel had passed away at the ripe, old age of a 170. She’d been fond of all the Weasley children, but always favored Ron over all his siblings, mostly because they’d often scurry off to play and leave him behind to endure her long-winded stories.  To everyone’s great surprise, Auntie Muriel had amassed a small fortune during her lifetime and when her will was read, she had left most of that fortune to Ron.

 

Right away Ron knew what he would spend the Galleons on: a home for him and Hermione. They’d looked at several cottages in Hogsmeade before finding a house not too far from his parents’ home in Ottery St. Catchpole. It was much larger than the cottages they’d been considering, but they’d gotten it at a good price since it needed a few repairs.

 

Despite the fact that it reminded him vaguely of the Shrieking Shack, Hermione had insisted on taking it. With a coat of paint on the outside and a little work, she’d said it would look quite lovely. She had also blushingly expressed a desire to _fill_ all the bedrooms of the house.  They signed the deed that same afternoon.

 

Ron sniffed and rubbed his nose, irritated by all the dust in the room. Hermione had gone to the Burrow to ask his mum for a book that included some heavy-duty household spells. He’d stayed behind, of course, to finish lugging her books upstairs. He was pleased that he was finally finished.

 

Besides the dozen or so boxes Ron had brought up, there was only one other item in the room: a large wooden desk with intricate Celtic knots carved along the edges.  His Granddad had built it before he died, and for many years, it had been stored in the attic in the Burrow, as they simply had no room for it. Ron’s parents, hating that it had gone to waste for so many years, had given it to Hermione as a wedding gift. Ron briefly ran his hand over the smooth surface, imagining coming home every day to see Hermione working, writing at this very desk. He was planning to build her a few bookcases for the walls and maybe he’d buy her a nice quill. His salary as someone just starting out wasn’t very large, but he wanted to give her all he could.

 

Hermione had received a grant from the Ministry to do research on protective magic, like the magic that had kept Harry safe for so many years on Privet Drive, and the spell they’d used to protect him during the final battle. She loved her work, and was hoping this project could lead to another grant on the study of elf magic. She also wanted to write a book based on her research when she was through. Ron got a job with the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes after the war. He had decided the life of an Auror was too demanding and dangerous for a married man, especially one who hoped to have a large family someday. So, Ron had found a position on the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad.  After living with Fred and George his entire life, he figured he’d be a natural for the position. It wasn’t as exciting as he’d hoped it would be. He was still a rookie and as such, he usually just documented what actions the Squad had taken. It was dull work, but there was plenty of room for advancement. Of course, that wasn’t Ron’s greatest concern. He wasn’t Percy. As long as he could support his family, he would be happy. His greatest worry was that he wouldn’t be able to take care of Hermione. While her research position came with a small stipend, it wasn’t much to speak of. She depended on him and that scared him a bit.

 

They hadn’t been married for very long – only three months – but Ron was happier than he’d ever been. He and Hermione still squabbled about things, he doubted that would ever change, but it didn’t happen as often as when they were in school. He was proud to have her as his wife; after all, she was the most brilliant, bravest witch he’d ever known.

 

With a sudden crack, Hermione appeared behind the desk, cutting into Ron’s thoughts.

 

He broke into a grin. “Hello, love. I’d have thought you would’ve Flooed in with the amount of books you’d be bringing home.” He noticed she wasn’t carrying anything. “Mum not have what you need?”

 

He moved to kiss her but she backed away from him, scowling.

 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, trying to recall what he might have done to upset her.

 

“You could say that,” she replied huffily.

 

“Would you indulge me, then?” he asked, feeling a little put out that she was upset with him after he’d spent all morning hauling her books up two floors without magic.

 

Hermione snorted. “Where should I start? Let’s see, your complete inability to do the most basic spells properly. I mean, we learned Levitating Charms in first year…”

 

“I can do the spell properly,” he argued. “You didn’t want me to use it.”

 

“Exactly, you might have set my books on fire or dropped them out a window or something.”

 

“I’m not an idiot.”

 

“Could have fooled me,” she shot back.

 

He gaped at her. “What are you on about, Hermione? You were fine before you left. What’s going on?”

 

“I’ve just realized what a mistake this was.”

 

Ron’s heart clutched painfully in his chest. “Are you talking about the house? What are you saying?”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Are you really this thick? Yes, this house, this marriage, everything.”

 

Ron felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Tears were stinging his eyes. He’d always suspected that someday she’d realize that he wasn’t worthy of her, that he’d never be good enough for her, but to hear the words from her lips was… too much.

 

“Hermione, please.”

 

“You are the most worthless, miserable excuse for a wizard I’ve ever seen. I want someone who can give me what I need, the life I deserve. You disgust me! How could I have ever decided to marry such a stupid, pathetic–”

 

“ _Riddikulus_!”

 

Startled, Ron spun around to see the real Hermione standing at the door clutching her wand, a pile of books at her feet. He hadn’t heard her drop them. Tears were flowing down her cheeks.

 

“Oh, Ron,” she said, running forward and launching herself into his arms. “You’re not any of those things. How could you think I’d ever say anything like that?”

 

He was shaking like mad and felt very foolish. It was just a boggart. He _was_ pathetic. He leaned against the desk and tightened his grip on Hermione.

 

“That’s your worst fear?” she asked.

 

Ron rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, nodding hesitantly.

 

“That’s ridiculous,” she muttered, pressing kisses to his cheek, his nose, and his lips. “I never would have married you if I didn’t think you’re brave and handsome and wonderful.”

 

He shrugged, not knowing what to say. She was always saying things like that, but it was still difficult for him to believe it.

 

“What can I do to make you understand that, Ron? No one could ever make me as happy as you make me… No one could ever drive me as mad as you do, either,” she said with a chuckle.

 

“I do that quite well, don’t I?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

 

“Yes, well I drive you mad as well. Don’t I?” she said, stroking his hair lovingly. “But it doesn’t matter because we love each other. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

He nodded, sighing when she cupped his face with her hands.

 

“I’m yours,” she whispered.

 

Ron lowered his eyes to hers. He hadn’t seen her looking so sad since the war. How many times had he been afraid then? Afraid she’d get hurt, or killed, or simply crack from all the pressure, all the pain. He saw the same fear, the same helplessness he felt reflected in her eyes. Suddenly, he understood. She needed him just as much as he needed her.

 

He dipped his head, brushing his lips against hers. Her lips were soft and parted ever so slightly as she returned his kiss. Making the most of the opportunity, he swept his tongue over her lower lip. Her mouth was warm and tasted of mint. Reverently, he explored her mouth with his tongue and wound his fingers into her soft, bushy curls.

 

Hermione moaned and slid her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.  Their kiss, which began so soft and tender, was now progressing quite rapidly into something more fierce and desperate. Ron’s large hands trailed down her back and slid underneath the hem of her shirt, tracing the dip at the small of her back and causing Hermione to shiver.

 

He slid his hands up, caressing her bare back underneath her shirt. She was so warm and so soft. He needed to feel her skin against his; he needed to kiss her, to show her how much he loved her. In school, he’d always heard about blokes, dodgy sorts, who would get their girlfriends to shag them by saying they wanted to _prove_ their love. But that was what Ron wanted to do now. He wanted to show her how much she meant to him, how it would destroy his heart completely if she ever left him. He needed her.

 

“I love you,” he said, searching her gentle brown eyes.

 

“Ron, I love you, too.”

 

He kissed her again, willing her to understand just how much he felt for her. He needed to be closer, needed to melt into her skin. She must have had the same idea, as she soon was tugging his dusty, sweat-soaked t-shirt over his head. She kissed his chest, tracing her fingers lightly across his skin.  It tickled a little, but he didn’t want her to stop.

 

“Mmm,” she murmured between kisses. “Mine.”

 

Ron’s restraint snapped and making a noise that sounded very much like a growl, he lifted her into his arms and turned to sit her on the edge of the desk. He kissed her fiercely, crushing her against him. She linked her arms around his neck to draw him closer, and her t-shirt rode up slightly, revealing a strip of bare flesh at her midriff.

 

Slowly, Ron grabbed the hem of her t-shirt and slid it up, exposing her smooth belly completely.  He bent down and placed wet kisses against her skin. He lifted her shirt higher revealing her white bra.  He could just make out the outline of her rosy nipples through the delicate lace.  He traced them with his fingers and Hermione moaned loudly, her voice echoing off the bare walls of the attic. He nuzzled her hardening peaks through the thin fabric.  In apparent frustration, Hermione pulled her shirt off completely, tossing it carelessly behind her.

 

“Making a mess?” he laughed.

 

She cut him off, pulling him down for a hungry kiss. Ron ran his hands up her thighs and hooked his fingers into the belt loops of her jeans, pulling her closer to him. Her hands were traveling over his chest and back.  He closed his eyes tightly, thoroughly enjoying the feel of her soft hands caressing him.

 

“Ron,” she whimpered.

 

Panting, Ron pulled back slightly to look at her.  She was flushed and sweaty, slightly dazed as she gazed up at him.  Her chest was heaving, her lovely breasts spilling over the cups of her bra. Slowly, he slid the straps down her shoulders, uncovering soft, full breasts. Hermione reached around to unclasp her bra as he cupped her in his large hands, teasing her nipples with his fingertips.

 

She moaned and pulled at his belt, fumbling slightly with the buckle, then with the button of his jeans. “I need you now,” she said.

 

When they were first married, it had taken them awhile to get used to telling each other what they liked and wanted to do in bed. Part of it was out of inexperience, neither of them had ever been with anyone else and they simply weren’t sure what they liked yet; part of it was the newness of that area of their relationship. Admission was always accompanied with a blush or a stutter, as though they were afraid of judgment. For Ron to see Hermione now, so demanding, wanting him was enough to make his whole body ache with desire.

 

He worked the button of her jeans with trembling fingers, finally getting it open and sliding her zipper down.  Hermione lifted her hips and he pulled her jeans and her knickers down her legs.  His own jeans were pooled around his knees and he kicked them off and removed his boxers.

 

“So beautiful,” he whispered, wrapping his finger around one of the curls framing her sweaty face.

 

“Ron, please.”

 

He stood between her legs, opening her up for him, and she locked her ankles around his arse. He slid his fingers down, feeling for her hot, wet entrance, before guiding himself inside.

 

Inch by inch he slid inside her, savoring the feeling of her tightness giving way around him. This was his favorite part, feeling connected to her.  He tried to drag out the moment for as long as he could, knowing it wouldn’t be long before his body screamed faster, deeper, harder. Hermione raked her nails lightly down his chest and stomach sending small tremors of pleasure through Ron’s body. At last, he couldn’t hold back anymore and pulled his hips back to slam back into her.

 

“Fuck, you feel good,” Ron gritted out.

 

As he entered her with long, hard strokes, Hermione pulled his face down and kissed him hard, whimpering against his lips every time he hit a spot she liked.  He leaned her back against the desk, supporting her body with his arm and raised a knee onto the flat surface for leverage. He was thrusting faster and deeper, feeling his control spinning away.  The cries issuing from Hermione’s lips indicated that she was close, but he knew that his own orgasm was approaching faster.

 

Deciding to help her along, his fingers searched for and found the spot just above where they were joined. She cried out in pleasure as he stroked her, her moans quickly turning into breathless squeals. He felt her tighten around his cock and she dug her fingers into his shoulders as she climaxed.  He clung to her as his thrusts became more erratic, and finally he spilled deep inside her.

 

Ron’s limbs felt like they were made of liquid as he shakily released his wife and climbed off the desk.  She sat up, looking at him with soft eyes and a lazy smile.

 

“I love you,” he said, returning her smile.

 

“Love you, too,” she replied. “But I’m all dusty now.”

 

“We could take a shower,” Ron suggested hopefully.

 

“Sounds like a brilliant idea.”

 

As sore as Ron’s muscles were from carrying heavy boxes all day, it didn’t stop him from throwing a giggling Hermione over his shoulder and carrying her downstairs to the bathroom.


End file.
